


Dream Weaver

by mustehelmi



Series: the pocket universe [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Magic, One Shot, Parallel Universes, Witch Eren Yeager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustehelmi/pseuds/mustehelmi
Summary: Levi goes to meet Carla the dream weaver, but is instead greeted by someone else entirely.





	Dream Weaver

**Author's Note:**

> Words that inspired this: daydreams, dreamer, serenity

Levi had been to the dream weaver once before, two weeks before his mom had died of soot sickness. Creeping up her arms and thighs, the ink had coiled around her. When she had curled her fingers and toes in her sheets, her nails had left charcoal stripes behind. Every time she had coughed, it had been clouds of black dust. Three months into the losing fight, the town’s healer had crouched before Levi and said “boy, you have to run to Carla, there’s nothing I can do for your mother anymore. Here, this should be enough to buy her some good dreams.”

When a healer gives you money to wrap yourself in some good dreams, you know they want you to buy a comfortable death. Or in little Levi’s case, for him to buy his mom a comfortable death.

A decade ago, Levi had balanced on the thin line between childhood and adulthood; small for his age, but fast and smart enough to make up for the inevitable frailty of growing up hungry. He had trimmed his hair, gained weight, and strength since then thanks to his employment at Smith’s Sawmill, and bought high quality clothes that fit him well with his honestly earned money. Regrettably, his growth spurt never hit, but time shaped him in other ways.

With his hand on the gate to the dream weaver’s house, Levi studied the scenery. Greenery still covered the cottage, though a few patches of flaky yellow paint shone through where the ivy had yet to conquer. The garden had grown wilder, wishing to merge with the forest surrounding it. Otherwise everything looked the same as it had in his youth, with birds building their nest underneath the roof and sunshine painting the windows.

During Levi’s last visit, the dream weaver’s grinning, bright-eyed son had showed him the backyard and all the colorful plants growing there through one of those windows, forever burning the brilliant landscape into his brain. Surely, the dream weaver’s house was one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Maybe even the most beautiful—at least to Levi.

And the dream weaver herself, the wonders she could perform, the things she could do—the things she _had done_ , the shawl she had weaved for Levi’s mom, and the daydreams that had come with it just made it all the better.

The gate creaked behind him when he trailed down the path of flat stones to the heavy wooden door. Two gray birds landed on the window sill and tilted their heads to stare at him with bottomless black eyes. He graced them with a cool glance before rapping his knuckles against the door, forcing himself to stay put and give this last opportunity a chance to resolve his insomnia.

Silence answered, followed by a loud bang and clattering of what sounded like an armful of pots and pans. The birds squawked and took flight. Someone hissed and cursed behind the door. Their footsteps were light, as was their boy-ish voice.

“Yes?” it said, through the door.

“I’m here to see Carla Yeager, the dream weaver.”

The door jerked open and on the threshold swayed a tan boy with a brown mop of hair and a wide, dimpled smile that revealed his pearl white teeth. “I’m sorry, mom can’t see you. But I’ve learned everything from her so if you need a dream weaver I’ll help you. Welcome in, follow me.”

“Where’s Carla?” Levi asked. Disappointment weighed his chest – the dream weaver was kind, the kindest woman Levi knew beside his own mom, and he wished to thank her one more time for the shawl that had given his mom the most restful two weeks of all her life.

“Mom’s dead. Has been for the past seven years,” the boy said, still smiling.

Levi faltered. “My condolences.”

“Thank you. I’m Eren, by the way.” Offering Levi his hand, the boy gave him a warm, heartfelt shake, which left him even more self-conscious than he had been before.

Eren showed the way to the main room. Woven rugs in mismatched colors, some with holes, hung on the walls and covered the floors. One of the desk drawers drooped open, and out of it gushed strangely shaped spare pieces of metal. A cat slept in a woven purple and red striped pouch hanging from the ceiling. Not one cobweb or dust bunny lurked midst the organized chaos.

Light flooded the main room through two large windows, exposing the secrets of even the shyest corners. Plush armchairs and couches, covered in thick, knitted blankets, cushions and stuffed toys lined the midnight blue walls. In the middle of the room sat a monster of a machine, from which protruded wooden arms holding dozens of yarn balls in different colors and sizes, ranging from the size of Levi’s head to so tiny he dreaded that they’d unfold if he huffed in their direction. In the front sat a keyboard similar to a piano’s, strings like on a lyre, and ten fifteen metal levers, all of which pointed in different directions. The daydreams materialized in the machine’s belly, where colorful strings of yarn hung on thick threads, ready to be interweaved and tighten into tangible dreams.

 Eren sat down on a small, sturdy wooden stool behind the loom and gestured to the seats around the room. He studied Levi with unwavering alertness, when he made himself comfortable in the corner seat by the window from which the dream weaver’s son – Eren, it had to have been Eren because Levi had never heard of Carla having other children – had shown him the backyard during his last visit.

“Can I get you anything? Water, tea?”

“I didn’t come for that.”

“All right then. What did you come for?”

Levi shifted in his seat, slinging one of his elbows over the couch’s back rest. “I can’t sleep.”

“I see. And what would you like me to do about it?”

“Maybe give me some decent dreams?”

Eren hummed and leaned against the loom. Airy and spirited tones danced around them before fading into nothingness when he pushed a few of the keys.

“So you’ve been having bad dreams? Do they wake you up?”

“Not exactly.” Having nothing else to say, Levi peered out the window. The backyard had remained the same for the past decade; the trees stood proud against the sky, the grass grew thick and the vibrant flowers’ bloom rivaled the high season. Some plants flourished in cracked, but clean pots on the wooden back porch and by the steps hung heavy tomatoes whose plants had tightly entwined with their stakes. Just as Levi remembered. “Your garden isn’t all that bad.”

“Thank you, it thrives on the magic we weave here. Mom said it has soaked in the ground over time. She was a lot better at remembering to pick the fruits before they fell than I am.” Eren scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile on his face. “Remind me to give you some tomatoes before you leave.”

Nodding in thanks, Levi said “it must be lonely out here.”

“Sometimes, but I’m lucky to have visitors every now and then. I think you’ve been here before as well.”

“Do you remember me?”

“Vaguely. You’re sitting in the same seat as you did when you were a child.” Eren frowned and narrowed his eyes in thought.

“Is it strange?”

“Not really . . . but most people wouldn’t choose to relive a bad memory like that. You were here to seek help for your mom’s death pains, weren’t you? You knew she would die.”

“I did, but it’s not a bad memory.”

“I’m happy to hear that, but . . .” Tapping his chin, Eren nodded in thought. “I’ll be honest. You look like you’re weighed down by some bad memories. Must be something worse than your mom’s death. I can feel it.”

“Not memories. The cursed dreams I have aren’t from this world.”

“Doesn’t mean they still aren’t memories.”

Levi considered Eren’s words. He had dismissed the strange recurring dreams as his imagination, maybe even childhood trauma that took shape as a perverse fascination with pain and misery, blood and gore. Calling them memories, dreams of another time, was bizarre. The townsfolk would deem him insane if he told them about these “memories” of a world in which magic had been forgotten and humanity lived in fear of mountain sized giants. He clenched his fists on his knees. “Maybe they’re memories, but they sure as shit aren’t my own. It could be an overactive imagination.”

“You don’t seem like the imaginative type,” Eren said and smacked his lips, to which Levi could only raise his eyebrow. “Is this why you can’t sleep? Are the memories restless, do they wake you throughout the night?”

“No. I just don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m afraid.”

Eren’s expression was gentle. He looked like a young Carla, with short, lighter brown hair and eyes of an oncoming storm instead of honey. His voice was deeper too, rougher than hers, but just as pleasant to listen to. “Of what?”

“Of . . .” himself. The things he had done and seen in those memories. Levi knew he was flawed. Awkward, short-tempered, prone to violence and more. But the things he had had to do to save himself and others, the sacrifices and decisions he had been forced to make, even if it was in another life, even if he understood his own reasoning and could not have outdone himself in any way-

 It still disgusted and scared him.

“The universe is like a pocket turned in and out, with holes and loose hanging threads. Sometimes strange things happen. If they didn’t, magic wouldn’t exist. Dreaming of another lifetime is one of the least harmful things that could happen to you. Some people are more connected to the universe and get sucked in by the holes or tickled by the threads. They get to experience things others don’t. That’s my mom and me, and you too. I’ll weave you something for it.”

Eren’s words flowed untroubled. Settling on the stool, he brushed his fingers against the keys before him and closed his eyes. Silence blanketed them when the universe itself waited with baited breath for him to move.

When Eren opened his eyes again, it was to play.

Slowly, like a dormant dragon awakening for the first time in a century, the loom came alive, growling and wailing, creaking and clanking. Eren weaved, the yarn balls unraveling without his help. Did he choose the colors, or did the loom decide what it wanted to put into its next masterpiece on its own?

Eren did not sing, but hummed along the tune. Sometimes he lifted a hand off the piano to pull at a lyre string or two, or to reach into the center of the loom to help it weave straight. It mostly worked independently while he clinked away. Nothing marked when one melody stopped and the next began. He might even play one long piece, always picking up where he left when he was interrupted.

Levi’s attention didn’t stray, as it hadn’t when he had watched Carla weave. Back then, little Eren had sat right next to him, kicking his stubby legs and laughing as they listened to his mommy’s music. The melody Eren played wasn’t the same one she had performed either. The air around the room crackled differently too. Carla had saturated it with the sweet aroma of honey, chamomile and creamy apple pie, so heavenly no real meal could taste as good as her magic smelled, while Eren’s weaving made Levi think of eating cotton candy by the sea, under the burning sun.

Eren’s daydreams for Levi were green. The yarn ball spun on one of the loom’s arms around, fast, faster than any other, along with the gray and the white. Carla had weaved a red and yellow shawl for Levi’s mom, who hadn’t taken it off once since he had brought it home. She had smiled more, been more restful, and told Levi tales about faraway lands, all with happy endings. Death had embraced her in her sleep and Levi had not noticed until the next morning when she hadn’t woken up to empty her warm bowl of yesterday’s leftover soup.

“It’s done.” Mercilessly creaking, the machine let out one last roar, and stilled. Eren eased the woven daydreams from the loom’s jaws and fished up a silver button from a drawer lodged in its side. It glinted in the evening sunlight. Making quick work of sewing it in place, Eren held up his creation with a proud grin. “A cloak of daydreams for you. If you wear this in your sleep it’ll help you find good memories.”

“It won’t block them?”

“No, but it’ll protect you from nightmares. Here, take it, it’s yours.”

Levi clasped the thick cloak. Holding it to his chest reminded him of how he had hugged his mother’s shawl-clad, thin arm when she had told him about the daydreams Carla had gifted her. They were wonderful, otherworldly, but he had never experienced them firsthand. The shawl could only make his mom happy and Levi’s relief had been her smile. He had buried the woven dreams along with his mother in the cheapest wooden coffin he had found.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

“How much do you think my fabricated dreams are worth?”

Levi pulled out his pouch and emptied half of its contents onto his palm. “This enough?”

“More than enough.” Eren laughed and picked up three gold coins.

“You sure?” Levi extended his hand closer. He hadn’t taken note of what the healer had paid for his mom’s shawl, but the pouch had been heavy in his hand. Eren rejected him with a headshake.

“You’ll have to replace the cloak eventually, so don’t use all your savings on this one. I can only weave dreams for who you are right now. When you change, it won’t be enough to protect you anymore. Oh, but I have something else for you as well. Wait here.”

Once Eren’s left, Levi examined his new woven cloak. It reached him to the hips and the hood covered his face without falling in his eyes. The white and grey yarn had gone toward a striped edge. He brushed the cloak against his cheek and filled his lungs with the smell of cotton candy washed in sunshine and a gentle ocean breeze. Mild and pleasant, the way a good dream should be.

“Think of this as a gift,” Eren said when he entered, his hair disheveled and electric. In his hand dangled a key necklace. “Paired with the cloak, you’ll sleep better than ever.”

“What does it do?” Levi asked, but accepted the gift all the same. He fingered the scuffed metal key. It was warm against his skin, as warm as Eren’s hand had been in Levi’s when he had introduced himself.

“It’ll help you find the memories you share with me.”

“And they’ll be good?”

“Yes, the cloak will make sure of that. And when you have trouble sleeping again, come by and I’ll make you a new one.”

“Yeah.” Levi weighed the key in his hand. “But what difference will it make if I dream about you or not?”

“It’s for comfort. You won’t recognize me in your memories and I won’t recognize you, but when you wake up, you’ll know you’re not alone. Or would you rather not have it?” Eren asked and offered his hand. “It’s up to you.”

“No, it’s fine.” Levi pulled the key to himself along with the cloak. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Eren beamed, rolling his weight from his toes to his heels. “What else . . .? Right, the tomatoes. I’ll go get you some before you leave.”

Levi had hid the key under his shirt by the time Eren returned with a basket overflowing with rhubarb, unwashed carrots, some herbs, and of course, ripe tomatoes. Once they had changed owner, he patted Levi’s elbow. “Come by soon again, and I’ll give you more. There’s so many of these, I don’t know what to do with them anymore.”

Levi thanked him, unsure of how to receive Eren’s gifts. He rarely had a reason to thank anyone for anything, and the glint in Eren’s eyes told him it showed.

“I’ll take my leave then.”

“And I’ll go back to washing dishes. The water’s probably gone cold by now. I think I dropped a few things too . . . Mom wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Eren winced and the corners of Levi’s lips curled upward.

“Good night, Eren.”

He stepped out onto the stone path. The sun was on its journey down behind the horizon and it would be dark by the time Levi reached home. He should’ve went to visit Eren in the morning rather than the afternoon. Well, next time he’d know better.

“Bye, Levi. Remember to come visit me soon!”

Levi raised his hand in acknowledgement and opened the gate. It creaked shut behind him.

But the sweet smell of Eren’s magic followed him all the way home where it engulfed him. For the first time in a decade Levi slept through the night, soothed by woven dreams about faraway lives, lived by people not much unlike him and the kind dream weaver’s son.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super grateful to Nevermorexxx for beta-reading this
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed, thank you!
> 
> [my tumblr, come say hi](http://www.sweetsoursugarcube.tumblr.com)


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